


Clippings

by radialarch



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Interviews, M/M, News Media, POV Outsider, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 11:00:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10875399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radialarch/pseuds/radialarch
Summary: Four seasons, four articles — and one future.





	Clippings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nescienx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nescienx/gifts).



> Thanks to Mae for sparking this fic, and Idril for looking it over ♥

WINTER

 

> **Skate for Gold**  
>  _For figure skater Victor Nikiforov, the sky’s the limit._

Russia’s Victor Nikiforov is already a household name among those who have been following figure skating for the past several years. Scouted at age seven at a St. Petersburg rink, he thrived on the merciless regimen of training and competition and established himself as someone to watch early on in his junior career, smashing record after record and carrying himself with grace one generally expects from skaters far older and wiser.

His transition into the senior division was a touch shaky—though, it must be said, a disappointing season for Nikiforov is one that anyone else might be proud of—but he regained his footing with customary flair and has since become an unforgettable figure on the ice. At age twenty, he already has one world record under his belt, for the highest scoring free skate, and those for the short program and combined total are expected to follow with due speed.

And now he’s preparing for Vancouver, full of promise and poised to become, as only few have done before him, not only a figure skating champion but the face and embodiment of the Winter Olympics games.

Nikiforov laughs when I mention this, sitting with me at the Sports Champions Club in St. Petersburg where he trains. “You’re always saying things like that,” he says playfully. (By _you_ , I gather he means the media.) “Always thinking so big!”

Off-ice and on-line, Victor Nikiforov is well-known among his fans for his irrepressible enthusiasm. The skater is as savvy with social media as he is with his skates: he boasts an impressive following on Facebook and Twitter, his posts peppered with exclamation marks and pictures of himself, always smiling.

In person, his smile is even brighter.

Well, I ask, what does he want to do in Vancouver?

“To skate,” he says promptly.

Not to win?

“No, no, _no_.” Nikiforov is vehement on this point, his distinctive hair fluttering behind him as he shakes his head emphatically. “You can’t start there, see, it’s the wrong direction. Skating is very emotional, yes? Thinking about winning, it—hmm, makes the performance flat. Dead. All you can do is skate a program that you’re proud of.”

Nikiforov leans toward me, his easy smile replaced, for the moment, with a stern earnestness.

“So you weren’t disappointed by your performance in Torino?”

“Of course I was disappointed,” he says. “But not because I didn’t medal. Stéphane and Jeffrey and Johnny skated very beautifully.” (Nikiforov refers to Stéphane Lambiel of Switzerland, gold medalist at the 2006 Winter Olympics; Jeffrey Buttle of Canada, silver; and Johnny Weir of the United States, bronze.) “I was angry at myself because I was facing this beautiful challenge and I couldn’t rise up to it. If my placement had been the same but I’d been able to do justice to my programs, I wouldn’t have minded so much.”

Lately, of course, ‘doing his best’ and ‘winning medals’ has become one and the same for the Russian skater. Nikiforov gives me a sly grin when I point this out.

“Well,” he says, the laughter back in his eyes, “I won’t turn the medals down.”

Four years later, Nikiforov returns to vie for an Olympic title, but the context has changed dramatically. Many of his competitors have since retired from the scene due to injury or age—figure skating wears brutally on the body—and Nikiforov, fresh from a Grand Prix victory and a newly-minted world record, is almost universally expected to claim gold by a commanding margin.

“Shh,” Nikiforov says with a finger across his lips. “Yakov [Feltsman, Nikiforov’s coach of eight years] doesn’t like celebrating early.”

Of course. As long-time watchers will know, the sport is far from predictable.

Still—what comes after?

Nikiforov looks a trifle disconcerted. “After the Olympics?”

That, and beyond. Throughout his career, Nikiforov has climbed from achievement to achievement with nearly inhuman speed. Half the number of his medals would still comprise an impressive career, and he’s done more than perhaps anyone else to push the boundaries of the sport. Quadruple jumps were acknowledged to be difficult but ungainly before Victor Nikiforov came along; it was Nikiforov who turned them into a crucial, breathtaking part of a skater’s arsenal.

Nikiforov is currently the only one in the world who can land the quad Lutz, and there are rumors that he’s been practicing the quad flip. (“You’ll have to watch,” he says with a wink when I ask whether he might try it in Vancouver. “It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you!”) Where does he go after that? What do you do after you become the best?

“I think—” Nikiforov says slowly, “skating isn’t about jumps, really. I want people to feel something when they watch my programs, something _here_ , you know—” here he presses a slim hand to his heart “—and as long as I can do that, then it’s worth doing. I mean,” he laughs, “you can’t run out of feelings, can you?”

He’s still frowning slightly, but my last question makes him light up again with the familiar Victor Nikiforov smile: what inspires him in his skating? 

“Makkachin!” he says, naming the pet poodle he’s had since he was twelve, and digs out his phone to show me pictures.

 

* * *

 

SPRING

 

> **Yuuri Katsuki, The Comeback Kid**  
>  _The man behind figure skating’s most unexpected success story._

When Japanese figure skater Yuuri Katsuki, at age 23, delivered what might be kindly termed a lackluster performance at his first Grand Prix Final, then cut the season short by coming in dead last at the Japanese National Championships, many in the skating world thought his career was over. In fact—full disclosure—I was one of them. There were, however, two who didn’t: Mr. Katsuki himself, and figure skating superstar Victor Nikiforov.

Mr. Nikiforov’s abrupt announcement last April that he’d be coaching Mr. Katsuki in Japan for the 2016-17 season, rather than continue in his record-breaking streak of victories, caused a minor scandal in the figure skating community. Fans of the Russian skater mourned as if the man himself had died; one publication, memorably and dramatically, proclaimed it “The End of Figure Skating as We Know It”.

How things have changed.

Mr. Katsuki meets me at a small bistro in Saint Petersburg, near the rink where he now trains. He’s quick to deliver an apology. “I’m sorry for being late,” he says, and explains, “Victor wanted to talk about the show.”

My watch blinks 1:03 pm. _Victor_ , of course, is Victor Nikiforov—skater, coach, and object of general international adoration. The show Mr. Katsuki mentions so casually is none other than _Victor and Friends_ , which will be touring Europe and Asia this summer with a star-studded cast guaranteed to draw crowds everywhere they go.

And Yuuri Katsuki—Four Continents champion, Worlds and Grand Prix silver medalist, and the current record-holder for the highest scoring free program—has become one of those attractions himself, after a triumphant comeback that sometimes feels more like fiction than real life.

Mr. Katsuki wears his well-earned fame uneasily on his shoulders. “It’s a good story,” he says in between bites of his sandwich. “I know that. Maybe it’s too good. I hear it and I don’t recognize who it’s about.”

He eyes me carefully. It’s a surprisingly blunt thing to say, particularly to someone who makes a living by telling these kinds of stories.

“What was it really like?” I finally ask. “How did it feel?”

Mr. Katsuki, unexpectedly, gives me a faint smile. “Harder.”

He doesn’t seem inclined to elaborate on that answer, but he’s happy to chat about how he’s settled in at his new facilities. Mr. Katsuki elected to relocate to the Sports Champions Club here early in January, following his coach’s decision to resume competing for the remainder of the season. The move raised some eyebrows—skaters, much like the rest of us, are creatures of habit, and even a small change in routine can throw an athlete off-balance. Mr. Nikiforov’s third-place finish at the Russian national championships, two weeks after he announced his return, only reinforced these concerns.

“We discussed it quite a lot,” Mr. Katsuki admits. “I think Victor was even more worried about it than I was. He didn’t want a repeat of the Rostelecom Cup, and I didn’t want him to be distracted.” 

Indeed. One of the most-repeated predictions about the temporary separation was that without Mr. Nikiforov’s presence, Mr. Katsuki’s performance would suffer at the Japanese nationals.

“I’m not very good at competing,” Mr. Katsuki says matter-of-factly. “No, it’s true. So I did worry. But even though Victor can be very stubborn, I can be, too. We actually—” He drops his head and laughs. “We made a bet, before he left.”

About skating?

“That I’d do better at my nationals than he’d do at his.”

That’s not an answer I expect to hear. Mr. Katsuki grins harder at my surprise.

“Maybe it was unfair,” Mr. Katsuki confides, “he had to pick his programs and compete against Yurio. Still. Victor is a very good skater, you know.”

 _Yurio_ would be Russia’s Yuri Plisetsky, rinkmate to both Mr. Nikiforov and Mr. Katsuki and a rising star in his own right. After becoming the youngest-ever winner of the Grand Prix series, Mr. Plisetsky went on to defeat Mr. Nikiforov at the Russian nationals and placed a tidy third at the European Championships a month later. Despite some missteps that kept him off the podium at the World Championships, Mr. Plisetsky remains a formidable opponent to watch—especially in the wake of Mr. Nikiforov’s announcement that he intends to retire for good.

“It was a little strange,” Mr. Katsuki says regarding his experience at Worlds, which Mr. Nikiforov attended as both competitor and coach. “But not in the way you think. I’ve wanted to compete against Victor for a long time, and to have that finally happen—it felt almost like a dream.”

A dream, it must be said, where Mr. Nikiforov edged out Mr. Katsuki for the gold by a fraction of a point.

“Of course, it always stings when you’re not standing at the top of the podium. But we both pushed each other to the limit—earned some new personal bests, even. I wouldn’t have been able to do that without Victor, and—” here Mr. Katsuki’s expression goes fond “—he’s said that’s true for him as well.”

In fact, Mr. Nikiforov rarely passes up a chance to discuss the ways Mr. Katsuki has inspired him in his skating, whether in interviews or on his numerous social media accounts. I wonder what this means for the two of them in the coming season: with Mr. Nikiforov back on the sidelines, how does Mr. Katsuki feel about Pyeongchang?

“The Olympics?” Mr. Katsuki falters. “Well, I—the nationals come first, I don’t want to assume—”

The atmosphere in the bistro suddenly grows noisy as a pair of hands settles onto Mr. Katsuki’s shoulders. “He’ll do great,” the newcomer says, confident and indulgent all at once. “No question about it.”

“Victor,” Mr. Katsuki says, a soft rebuke, as Victor Nikiforov turns his famed smile in my direction.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he says. “The photographer’s here, and Yuuri said he’d be done by two—?”

“Oh.” Mr. Katsuki winces, shooting me an apologetic look. “I don’t know if you got everything you needed.”

It’s fine, I tell them, they’ve given me more than enough of their time. But as Mr. Nikiforov helps Mr. Katsuki into his jacket, I catch a glimpse of gold on his finger. The pair have been coy and evasive about the rings they began wearing halfway through the season, and I can’t help but ask one last question: when’s the wedding?

Mr. Nikiforov beams at me. “When he wins gold at the Olympics.”

“Victor!” Mr. Katsuki says, pressing a finger to his lips—and then, to my surprise, turns to me. His expression is mischievous when he says in a conspiratorial whisper, “Maybe when Victor learns to behave.”

I couldn’t have been more wrong when I said Yuuri Katsuki would never recover from his disastrous season two years ago. So I’ll leave the predictions to my wiser colleagues and just say this: I can’t wait to see Mr. Katsuki skate next season.

 

* * *

 

SUMMER

 

> **No More Gold: Life Beyond the Ice**  
>  _What now for skating’s favorite power couple?_

Salé and Pelletier. Torvill and Dean. Berezhnaya and Sikharulidze. Virtue and Moir. These are just some of the duos who have left their mark on the landscape of figure skating. But the men I’m here to meet today are neither pairs skaters nor ice dancers. In fact, for half a season, they were direct competitors.

Meet Yuuri Katsuki and Victor Nikiforov, two halves of figure skating’s greatest love story.

Yuuri shifts uncomfortably at that, as we shelter from the burning summer sun inside Yu-topia Katsuki, the hot springs inn run by Yuuri’s parents. “I don’t know if that’s what I’d call it,” he demurs. “That sounds—”

“Exciting!” suggests Victor, who doesn’t seem to have any problem with the phrase. “Thrilling? Life-changing?” He drops a kiss by his partner’s ear, his mouth tugged up in a smile.

“Dramatic,” Yuuri says firmly, though his stern face is at odds with the quick squeeze he gives to the hand at his side. “Very dramatic.”

That I will concede. But this is a relationship that has been continually marked by surprising gestures from both sides. Victor famously put an enormously successful career on hold to fly to Japan and begin coaching in 2016; Yuuri often paid tribute to Victor’s influence on his skating through his choreography and exhibition programs and, memorably, at the press conference following his victory at the 2018 Winter Olympics. Considering the highly public way many of these events have played out, a touch of drama seems, in fact, rather fitting.

“Oh, god,” Yuuri says, pressing a hand to his face. “When you say all that out loud.”

“You’re not ashamed, are you?” That’s Victor, looking curious.

“No,” Yuuri mumbles, and looks up. “Victor makes me brave,” he tells me, flushing slightly at the admission, “so I do a lot of things I wouldn’t normally do. And I don’t—I don’t regret them, but it’s sometimes a surprise to look back and see that I did them.”

“You were brave before I ever met you.” 

From anyone else, that might be a line; Victor, beaming at Yuuri, says it with casual certainty.

By all accounts, Victor seems to be Yuuri’s #1 fan. (“Well, of course,” Victor tells me, while Yuuri smothers a smile.) How does he feel now that his favorite skater has announced his retirement?

“It’s enormously sad,” Victor says, his mouth turned down in an exaggerated frown. “Really, I could watch him skate for the rest of my life. Of course, there are ice shows—”

Such as the annual _Victor and Friends_ , which was rebranded _Yuuri!!! and Friends_ this year as a farewell gesture to the Japanese skater. “It won't stay like that,” Yuuri reassures me, though Victor seems perfectly happy to keep the name indefinitely.

“—and Yuuri has been thinking about coaching, but, well.” Victor throws an arm around Yuuri's shoulder, where it remains for the rest of the interview. “I will miss the energy he brings to the ice very much.”

“Of course,” Yuuri interjects with a flash of humor, “he retired first. I still haven't forgiven him for that.”

So is coaching what lies in the couple’s future?

“I have thought about it,” Yuuri admits. “Nothing’s been decided yet, but one thing I’d like to do is bring skating back to Hasetsu. And Victor is already a very good coach—though,” he adds while Victor looks chagrined, “maybe it took some time to get there.”

Hasetsu, where Yuuri was born and raised, is a city that has seen better days. The tourism that makes up the backbone of the city’s economy was hit hard by the downturn of the nineties; only Yu-topia Katsuki remains as a testament to the once-thriving industry of hot spring inns, and those who grow up in its shadows are choosing more often to leave and seek opportunity in nearby Fukuoka, or beyond.

“I used to think about that.” Yuuri’s smile here is wry. “Leaving. Mari [Katsuki, his older sister] never could, because she’d have to take over the inn, but I thought—if I could skate well enough, that could take me elsewhere.”

And it did, for a time: first to the university at Osaka, then the Detroit Skating Club, and finally St. Petersburg and a season of victories.

“But I suppose I’m like Minako [Okukawa, Benois de la Danse winner and Yuuri’s former ballet instructor].” Yuuri looks thoughtful now. “I don’t think I understood it before. Maybe I needed Victor to remind me—he was seeing everything with fresh eyes, and as I introduced him to the town, I was also realizing what it feels like to be home.”

“I will miss St. Petersburg,” Victor says cheerfully when I ask for his thoughts. “I miss everywhere I’ve been. But I don’t need very much. A rink, and good food—” he laughs “—and Makkachin [his beloved dog], and Yuuri.” He turns to kiss Yuuri on the cheek. “I’ve been to many places, you know. And even though Yuuri assures me that I am not getting old—” here, they both burst into laughter “—this seems like a good place to start the rest of my life.”

Together, the two of them sent their skating careers soaring to dizzying heights. Let’s hope that the pair might achieve just as much success in revitalizing the place they now call home.

“But first!” Victor says gleefully, thrusting out a hand so the ring on his finger catches the light. “The wedding! I did say yes in Pyeongchang, after all.”

 

* * *

 

FALL

 

> **ANNOUNCEMENTS**  
>  _Katsuki-Nikiforov_

Victor Petrovich Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki were married Saturday, September 22 at Yu-topia Katsuki in Hasetsu, Saga prefecture. 

Victor Katsuki-Nikiforov is a figure skating choreographer and coach. He formerly skated for Russia, and is a two-time Olympic medalist, a seven-time World champion, a six-time Grand Prix final champion, an eight-time European champion, and a ten-time Russian national champion. He currently holds the world record for the highest men’s short program score.

Yuuri Katsuki is a figure skating coach. He formerly skated for Japan, and is an Olympic gold medalist, the 2018 World champion, a two-time Four Continents champion, and a seven-time Japanese national champion. He currently holds the world record for the highest men’s combined score. He graduated from Kinogakuin University in 2016.

The couple resides in Hasetsu along with their pet poodle, Makkachin.

**Author's Note:**

> All journalistic, figure skating, or cultural errors my own; you're welcome to drop me a line if you'd like.


End file.
